Page 93 of The Relationship Clause

I manage to shove the key into the lock and force the door open. The urge to slam the door in their faces burns me, but something stops me. I can’t let them have the last word. I won’t.

I whirl around on my heels. “For your information, I didn’t weasel my way into any part of Owen’s life. Do you know why we lied to you both? And yes, I said we, because I wasn’t the only one who lied to you.”

“I don’t care what you—”

“We lied because of you two. You and your awful relationship with each other, your messed up past, your pushy attitudes. You’re the ones who weaseled your way into his life. He asked me to pretend to be his secretary to keep you out of his business,” I say, jabbing my finger toward Ms. Burton. “And we only pretended to be dating at first so you wouldn’t blow a gasket about his secretary sitting on his desk.” I turn my finger at Fred. “So this whole thing is as much your fault as it is mine or Owen’s.”

The two of them blink at me for a second, then at each other, as if still trying to process what I said.

“So, let me get this straight, you’re not involved with my son?” Ms. Burton asks.

And of all the stupid, idiotic, self-absorbed things she could have said, this was the worst. I draw myself up to my full height. Steam should be curling from my nostrils with how heated I am.

“No, I’m not involved with your son. I’m more than involved with him. We’re dating each other. He’s my boyfriend. And guess what? We don’t have any plans to break up. You want to know why? Because I love him. I, Juniper Cousins, love Owen Ferguson, even despite his awful parents. You can’t stop me from loving him just like you can’t stop me from dating him. And guess what? You can’t fire me either.”

I slam the door in their horrified faces. After a speech like that, maybe I should feel empowered. Bold. Confident. But none of those emotions take over in the silent aftermath. All I can register is the clawing sense of doubt.

What if there is something they can do to break us up? They have money, after all, and money can do some powerful things. Is there anything they can say or do to convince Owen to break up with me? I don’t know what kind of strings they might be able to pull, what kind of secrets they might be hiding. And I called myself Owen’s girlfriend. More than that, I told them I love him. The word just popped out of my mouth. What do I know about love? About what it takes to give myself wholly to another person? And what if… what if Owen doesn’t love me back?

What if everything I said was wrong?

My heart hammers in my chest, blood rushing in my ears, legs and arms shaky. I take a great, gasping breath, then another, and another, but it does nothing to calm me.

I whirl around and immediately start packing.

CHAPTER 30

OWEN

When I was twelve, I broke my ankle. A kid whose name I don’t even remember double-dog-dared me to skateboard down a railing at a park. Had I ever been on a skateboard before? Nope. But he bet me ten bucks I couldn’t do it, so, of course, I told him I could. One compound fracture later, I proved him right.

I remember staring down at the bone sticking out of my skin, and afterward at the hospital, waiting for at least one of my parents to leave work, thinking that was the most pain I’d ever experienced or ever would experience again. All my life, nothing compared to that.

Until now.

That pain was almost nothing compared to the agony I’ve experienced over the last forty-eight hours trying to save my company.

“We did it,” Shane murmurs.

I can barely grunt a reply.

The two of us are alone in a big, empty conference room at the hotel we’re staying at in Tennessee. He’s slumped over in his chair, his head resting on the dark wood table before us, arms splayed out over his head. He looks exactly how I feel.

Ten minutes ago, this room was filled with Em3rge’s legal team. That’s right. Em3rge doesn’t have only one lawyer on retainer anymore. We have a whole freaking legal team. A team who charges what I personally feel are illegally high rates, but, as Shane keeps reminding me, as long as they do their job, it’ll all be worth it.

Shane sighs. “It was a rough two days, but it’s over, and tomorrow, we can go back home.”

“Psh, ‘over?’ This thing has barely begun. But you’re right about one thing. It was rough.”

In the past forty-eight hours, I slept for only seven of them. I’ve conducted more meetings than I normally have in a week, and I never want to see another fast-food burger again. But the good news is, we’ve staunched the bleeding caused by our mole, ordered retractions to several online magazines, and begun what I’m hoping will be a quick legal battle, having served papers to Craig, his step-daughter, and everyone else they pulled into their little vortex of conspiracy.

I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “I’m ready to sleep in my own bed again.”

“You and me both.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, hitting the button to turn it on, but nothing happens. A jolt of alarm hits me as I remember my stupid mistake.

I left my charger at home.

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